The Boy in the Black Sweater
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: AU - Cloaked in silence and striding in a jet-black pullover, the new student is driving Yuugi up the wall with curiosity. But Yami is hiding a secret much more dangerous than Yuugi could ever imagine... and this red-eyed secret will do whatever he can to claim Yuugi for his own. Dark. Angst. Mobiumshipping.
1. Chapter One

**Title:**_ The Boy in the Black Sweater_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Supernatural/Angst/Horror/Mystery/Drama/ Romance_

**Coupling: **_Mobiumshipping_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_There was just something about the new kid; he walked in silent strides, embracing a cloak of mystery and dismissing the constant attention tossed his way; indeed, the boy in the jet-black pullover was a new figment of interest in Yuugi's life that he longed to pursue and uncover for secrets. The attention needed to be diverted from his own life for a change._

_But there was much more to the boy in the black sweater, much more than Yuugi could have ever imagined, and with otherworldly forces clawing at his every footstep, there is no way he can escape._

_He shouldn't have let himself in._

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**The Boy in the Black Sweater**

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C**h**a**p**t**e**r **O**n**e**

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_**September 7**__**th**__**, 2013**_

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The beginning of autumn in Domino City was like drenching the surface of Hell in bleach. The asphalt streets were constantly sloped with conquering storms, twisted haloes of rain sabotaging the glass walls of skyscrapers, and the notoriously ancient building of Domino High School stood as nothing more than a giant brick of obsolete memories and deceitful promises. It would have been nice to see the hedges bordering the front of the building to sprout gentle blossoms or even a weed or two—but this particular area was swamped in decay, damnation and a constant sense of foreboding.

The torn shape of Yuugi's sneakers sloshed against the sidewalk like sponges. His school uniform—the usual, simple pale blue jacket and pants that were far too big on him—was entirely drenched in rainwater, and his bag was soaked through with the liquid as well. His homework probably suffered from his terrible luck, and he would have laughed if this were any other day, or if he had a reason at all to smile. Trying to ignore the insufferable crack of a grin forming on his lips, he approached the staircase and ignored the petty stares cast in his direction, determined to shake the irritating water from his unruly hair as soon as he stepped into the building.

The doors closed behind him, a soft echo slipping into the hallways. Breathing shallowly and feeling like he was already contracting a cold, Yuugi immediately walked hundreds of steps to his locker, trying to drown out the heavy voices pounding against his eardrums like megaphones. He opened his locker and slipped his backpack off his shoulder, opening it to make sure that nothing was really damaged—

"Oh, lookie here, boys, if it ain't the _Mutou _twerp." Yuugi froze, but refused to acknowledge the source of the voice. He started pulling books from his bag and placing them in his locker, hoping—_wishing_—that this particular bully would just leave him alone for this morning. "Heh, you're not answering, you cocksucker!"

Yuugi bristled as massive, beefy hands slammed his locker shut, gripped his shoulders and spun him around. He was pinned against the remaining lockers, the sound of metal against metal grating his nerves and causing his teeth to grind. Wide amethyst eyes bulged in surprise and stared directly into the cold, hardened depths of the attacker's.

He shouldn't have been surprised; Ushio loved to target him on Mondays.

Yuugi kept his head low, making sure not to make further eye contact. The victims of Ushio's constant bullying knew that the only way to get him to leave you alone was to pretend that he had no effect on you whatsoever. Unfortunately for Yuugi, he was sought as the primary target and was often beaten senseless until he couldn't even walk anymore. It was extremely severe his freshman year, when bullies loved to pick on him for his relatively short height, small size and softer facial features.

"You keep ignoring me, you fucker, and I'll fuck you up!" Ushio growled, inches from Yuugi's face. The boy breathed slowly, trying desperately to remain calm and not to let this practical ape-man's threats slink into thinking process. If he just focused long enough for things to blow over, this could actually work. "Goddammit, you motherfucker," Ushio reeled back, veins bulging on his neck like that of a wild animal's. "One of you bastards hand me scissors!"

Yuugi's eyes widened at that, and he turned to Ushio with pure, unadulterated fear hidden within those sharp purple eyes. Normally he would have continued struggling, since he'd gotten used to the occasional punch in his stomach or a kick to his knees, but this was severe. Ushio turned back to him; his goons handed him a pair of razor-sharp scissors that practically glinted under the blare of the lights.

"You're not gonna ignore me again, are ya, you little shrimp?" Ushio growled, pressing the outstretched blade of the scissors to Yuugi's throat. The other gulped, but he refused to say a word. "Heh, but I guess you like this, don't ya? You probably dream of me trapping you against a wall, you pint-sized _homo_."

Still, Yuugi said nothing, and made sure to keep it that way. Ushio bristled and backed off, the scissors held tightly in his monstrous hands. Before Yuugi could turn towards his locker again, or at least dash off to save his own life, Ushio grabbed his collar and slammed him higher against the opposite wall; the impact force rippled through Yuugi's bones and pain screamed inside him like a reborn monster.

"Ushio, maybe we should leave the kid alone for now—"

"Shut up!" Ushio glared at the fool who dared to even challenge him. Yuugi recognized the individual to be Weevil Underwood, a disturbing individual who was obsessed with insects of all kinds. He stood out easily, with a bowl haircut that was dyed turquoise, dressed in khaki slacks and sporting a pattern of a beetle on his signature pale green T-shirt.

Yuugi knew that he cowered before Ushio just as much as everyone else, and he had sworn he'd never heard him talk before. Ushio turned back to Yuugi and dropped him, watching in satisfaction as he winced in pain. "That's a warning, you fag. You cross my path again—you even _look _in my direction again—and I'll fuck you up so bad your own grandmother won't recognize you."

And with that, he sauntered away with his goonies in tow.

Yuugi struggled to sit up, his teeth clenched and the hatred growing for the rest of the student body for just staring at the scene and laughing at the outcome… it was ridiculous here, but it wasn't like the principal paid any attention to the hours that occurred before classes even started. It was only the third day of his junior year and he hated how it was playing out.

Ushio had never been so forward before, and that was saying something. The brutish thug plagued his freshman and sophomore years with verbal and physical bullying, but he had never drawn blood, and he had never gone to such an extent that he would use _scissors _as a weapon.

Yuugi sighed, and gathered his belongings from his locker and headed off to his first class. Today was Monday, so his first block was with the balding teacher with the brown suit that he always forgot the name of… mathematics in the morning was just Yuugi's _favorite._

"Hey, Yuugi!" He blinked and finally found the urge to slightly smile. He turned around, and he saw the only friend he had managed to make during his freshman year.

Anzu Mazaki raced towards him, clad in her usual uniform (pink jacket, white blouse and short lighter blue skirt with knee-high black socks and shoes) her face prettily heart-shaped and her eyes sparkling like blue jewels. Her hair was cropped short to her shoulders and she held an air of confidence that Yuugi was slowly beginning to connect—he just needed to be more patient with himself and obtain a less-than-silent air, especially around his bullies.

"I was looking for you!" Anzu smiled, walking beside him.

"Yeah, well, I was a little busy," he replied, realizing his voice was still choked from the pressure of Ushio slamming him against the lockers. If Anzu knew about this morning bullying fest, she would be outraged. "Sorry. I'll keep in mind to meet you earlier than normal."

"Oh, that's okay," Anzu replied matter-of-factly. "I know that you need to focus the first couple weeks of school. I heard that balding teacher we have is going to give us our first test next week. Isn't that crazy?" She shrugged at her own words and stared straight ahead once more. "I mean, think about it. That doesn't really make any sense… maybe it's because he's Australian and he wants to know how we learn? Isn't this the first class he's taught from another country? I think that maybe—"

"Anzu," Yuugi began, smiling. "I get it."

She grinned. "Sorry. I'm just… well I'm kind of excited about this year. It'll be full of changes and whatnot, and my counselor tells me that this will be the most important year of high school. Didn't your counselor tell you that?" She blinked, and swallowed at her words, noticing the darkened lavender shade of her friend's eyes. "I'm sorry, Yuugi. I forgot."

His fingers gripped tighter around the straps of his backpack, but he dipped his head in acceptance nonetheless. "It's okay."

His parents, Serena and Kegan Mutou, were highly specialized in counseling and were actually responsible for family therapy when his grandfather entered a dangerous coma. Seven years had passed since his parents left for business discussions in America, and Yuugi had not heard of them since. His mother claimed she would write to him, but clearly that was a blatant, pathetic lie. He would have rather she told him she wanted nothing to do with him, rather than promise him something and refuse to deliver. It wasn't Anzu's fault that she forgot his parents were counselors; it was totally ridiculous. She never even met them.

"Yuugi, I swear—"

"No, really, Anzu it's not a big deal." Yuugi smiled at her reassuringly, and at the sight of his face she nodded in hopes that he understood. She seemed more skeptical of how she acted around him, but the air between them was definitely reflective of very close friends.

Anzu met Yuugi in… decidedly interesting circumstances. Yuugi happened to pass by the locker rooms when he heard her scream in what was seen as shock and fear, and he entered the facilities to find a group of bullies tearing her clothes and screaming awful names at her. Distressed, Anzu was petrified, but Yuugi distracted them, and they followed him out of the stalls with raised fists and angry voices. He was beaten so badly that he was forced to be bedridden for an entire week, but Anzu had never been more thankful, and due to the experience and the protection of her newfound friend, she swore to defend him with her life.

Their bond was interesting and compassionate and unlike anything Domino High School had ever seen before. It was strange, really, to see the constantly praised tough girl Anzu Mazaki with the admittedly small and weak (though admittedly sharp-tongued) boy known simply as Yuugi Mutou. He was, however, a prime target for bullying that drew Anzu's immediate attention, and she made sure he was safe as long as she was around.

But Yuugi knew that she shouldn't have to be responsible for his safety or not. Ushio managed to corner him, to frighten him, and whispered horrible things in his ear that would have normally driven him mad with annoyance, but he had to learn to control himself. With Anzu's advice he was becoming less of a huge target. Unfortunately he was still "popular" with the bullies, and that was not going to change until he graduated and left Domino City for good.

"Alright, well, see you later Yuugi! You have the Australian baldy to deal with now." Anzu winked at him and fluttered down the hallways like a lost, excited child. Yuugi smiled, but shook his head as he entered the classroom, bristling head to toe as he stared at the clock and realized the distraction with Ushio sapped ten minutes from his timeframe.

He was late.

The entire room, filled with suspecting, intimidating students, gave him "the eye" that sent shivers of anguish and judgment down the boy's spine. He swallowed and walked up to the teacher, who was just as bald and Australian as he remembered him to be, with an incredible bushy moustache that resembled a massive squirrel more than anything else.

"Yuugi Mutou, you're _late_! Take a seat and keep your mouth shut, you hear me? This disrespect will not go unpunished!"

And apparently, this teacher was still an enormous drama queen. Yuugi resisted the urge to roll his eyes and quickly walked through the long, gaping line of desks and students to reach his own in the very bag. To his dismay, he recognized a tall, lean blonde bully that usually took his time with his chosen victims.

Yuugi just ignored him; he faced the blackboard and dropped his backpack beside his chair, sitting down and ignoring the cloud of whispers hanging over his head and buzzing into his mind like a bunch of disturbed locusts. He took out a mechanical pencil and a notebook (which was thankfully the only thing in his backpack that remained mostly dry) and immediately started jotting down notes.

He tried to ignore the blonde as best he could, since he knew he didn't want to mess with him. He glanced over his shoulder every so often to see if this student ever took notes, but he remained there, his feet kicked up on the seat and his teeth gnawing away at a once-perfectly-usable pencil.

This boy's pale hair was tousled, unruly and probably not brushed, his clothes consisting of the regular school uniform, a white collared shirt and a really nice watch that he never took off. Copper eyes, smooth and dark, graced his tan features and hardened into rocks whenever the opportunity arose. He always had this lazy look when he picked on the other students, most notably Yuugi, but he had been a lot lighter in this attention over the last year.

Maybe it was because he was older. Yuugi had tried to be nice to him in the past, but with Anzu telling him constantly of how useless his attempts were, he simply gave up and believed that the blonde—Jounouchi Katsuya—was just no use and a waste of time. But seeing him now gave him a sudden interest that he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to.

_Don't just walk straight into things that you know you can't handle_, he told himself quickly, repeating words that his grandfather told him when he was just a young boy… during the golden days, when the biggest thing Yuugi had to worry about was the flavor of ice cream he would be getting at the end of soccer practice.

"Take out your textbooks and open them to chapter thirteen. Yes, yes, we're going to start the year off with a little trigonometry. Now no groans, class! This is a perfect opportunity to expand on your weak brain capacity!"

Yuugi groaned, wondering if he could just slam his face into his notebook or sneak out of this classroom. Even the teacher's Australian accent was bugging him a little… he hated complaining but this was already a stressful morning and a verbally abusive teacher was not going to be his most favorite addition to the day.

"And Katsuya!" the teacher called, pointing towards the blonde at the back of the classroom. "Stop chewing on that pencil and get your book out!"

Jounouchi only proceeded to roll his eyes and remove his feet from his desk… and take out a ballpoint pen and replace the pencil, continuing to chew. A familiar sense of rebellion rolled off his stance in waves.

Some students snickered, and Yuugi cracked a small grin.

The teacher growled. "Katsuya… this is the third day of your _junior _year. How you managed to get this far, I will never know, but you must stop this tomfoolery nonsense immediately!"

"Or what?" Jounouchi challenged, crossing his arms behind his head.

"You will be—"

"Mr. Abernathy." The calm, hefty voice immediately silenced the chatter in the classroom and shut the Australian man's mouth. Standing there was a tall, broad-shouldered individual with a typical moustache and warm brown eyes, but he happened to be the only person on school grounds that listened and paid attention.

_Most of the time. _Yuugi thought in annoyance. Apparently, principals these days completely ignored the fundamentals of bullying.

But why was the principal here?

Mr. Abernathy swallowed and faced the much larger, stronger man with an apologetic nod. "Y-Yes, Principal Smith? I'm sorry to appear in such an awkward state of mind, but I was just teaching this class with more enthusiasm than usual, of course. I was making sure that the more… irritating additions to my classroom were not taking advantage of the time given here."

"I did not need an explanation, Mr. Abernathy," the principal continued, and suddenly made space between his body and the door. Yuugi craned his neck, interest piquing the corners of his deep purple-shaded eyes. "You do remember the newest addition to this classroom, correct? I made sure to let you know, and you were supposed to meet this student at the front of the building, but you were not there, so I obliged to let him inside." He held his hand up before the balding man could explain. "So he is to remain here with a new schedule. Do not disappoint me."

Once the burly man left, Yuugi couldn't shake the interested thought out his head. A new student? The only concern he had was that this new kid was going to be another bully; he knew that anyone could learn to be one, and Jounouchi Katsuya, with his leaner, yet still broad build, was living proof. When he first arrived onto Domino High School during the middle of Yuugi's sophomore year, he expected great things from the blonde, and was harshly backhanded as a result of his foolishness.

Quite literally, in fact.

"Of course…" Mr. Abernathy drawled, and glanced out the still-open door with an annoyed look shining behind his rectangular glasses. "Well, come in already! Just because you're new doesn't mean you can waste my other students' time!"

The hidden stranger obeyed, and once he stepped into the classroom, Yuugi swore he felt the entire room stiffen in surprise and curiosity of the sight before them. Some even shot glances toward him, but he didn't care, because his breath left him and his throat had considerably tightened as soon as the new kid—the new _boy_—walked into the room in long strides.

He wasn't abnormally tall, but not too short, either. He had a lean and toned build, dressed in noticeably tight denim jeans, solid white tennis shoes, and a rather sleek black pullover that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of blue from the uniforms. Some girls swooned in surprise, and even some of the male students eyed the new student in interest, but what snatched Yuugi's attention the most was the very air the man carried himself in.

His posture was strangely cool and confident, his features held no similarity to that whatsoever. His face was angled in an interesting way, sharp, handsome and stenciled from aging's skilled hands. His creamy complexion seemed to fade into a pale, uncomfortable shade, and what Yuugi imaged to be rosy tint had gone away completely. The male's hair was strangely similar to his own: spiked up in numerous directions, with lightning bolt bangs slightly drooping forward and losing the charisma that the remaining black, red and violet-tinged colors had. He was slender, well built, and the two, large angular lavender eyes were narrowed and surprisingly dull compared to everything else.

He was beautiful.

But even more than that—there was something so… _off _about the way he looked and the way he moved. He was a standing statue of contradictions, and the way he walked to his desk once Mr. Abernathy continued his lecture was only driving Yuugi insane with further curiosity.

The new kid sat in the desk right beside him, immediately looking straight ahead with a bored expression on his face. Several girls and boys immediately started talking to him, trying to press for information, but he didn't even reply. He just… looked away, as if completely uninterested with what they had to offer. He removed his hands (which, Yuugi noted, were slender and strong like the rest of him) from his sweater pockets and propped his elbows up on the table. He looked so tired, like he really didn't want to be there.

Yuugi hesitated. Should he talk to him?

_No_, his conscience responded adamantly. _You shouldn't. What if he's some crazed stalker from juvenile hall? What if he has a record? You don't want to mess with strangers like this Yuugi. It'll only end up with your head cut off or your heart torn out or something equally as dramatic._

He went against his better judgment and leaned over, wondering if he could possibly get this mysterious boy's attention. From what he could tell, the stranger looked slightly older than him, with his sharper features and more mature aura.

"Hello," Yuugi started lamely. The other man blinked, as if he was in a daydream, and glanced toward him with an elegantly risen eyebrow. Seeing him so close, face-to-face, made Yuugi's heart race.

Those eyes, those dark lavender orbs, held a thousand untold stories, secrets, and mysteries that were begging for him to enter and unlock as many as he could. He was a sucker for stories, but he wasn't here to question the new kid until he broke down. That would be cruel.

"…"

Yuugi's cheeks flushed. "Uh… it's nice… to have a new student here. My name is Yuugi." He held his hand out from underneath the desk. "I know Mr. Abernathy is kinda loony, but you'll get used to him, I can promise you that."

"… Your hand."

Yuugi blinked. He was so distracted by the soft velvet that laced the other's words that he had to snap himself back to reality. "I—what?"

"Your hand," the other whispered, gesturing with a flick of his eyes towards the several bruises marring the flesh of his palm. Yuugi retracted his hand, his eyes wide and his skin flaming in embarrassment. "What happened?"

"… It's a long story. Nothing you really need to worry about." Yuugi plastered on a wide smile and turned to the other, causing the pupils in the new boy's eyes to dilate considerably. Yuugi blinked at the strange gesture and shrugged. "I promise, you won't be targeted. Only I go through those types of things."

He realized just how stupid he probably sounded and shrunk back into his seat. Other students were already giving him sour looks, and he really didn't want to be targeted after class.

"… Yami."

Yuugi flinched in surprise, and stared at the student. He really didn't expect to actually have an answer, but his hands were shaking in nervousness and tried desperately to calm himself down. "Yami?"

"My name."

"Oh. Right." Yuugi grinned bashfully. "Sorry."

The other's lips turned at the corners, but it wasn't enough to be considered a smile. He dipped his head, observing one of the tiles on the ground before turning his attention back to Yuugi. "You're very awkward."

"Um," Yuugi started, blinking at the blunt comment. "I… thanks? I mean, I know I'm awkward, but I guess it's what gets me through the day most of the time. I mean, if the bullies target me, they won't target anyone else, right?"

Yami seemed confused at that, but he didn't ask any more questions. Exactly five minutes later, the bell rung, and Yuugi shoved his belongings back into his backpack before he slung the sack over his shoulder. He glanced towards Yami, wondering if the new student was going to follow him, or ask him another question, or say something interesting about himself, but he didn't.

He simply got up, and left the room without another word.

Yuugi blinked. _Okay…_

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"Who is that guy, Yuugi?" Anzu took a second to glance away from her burger to point at the new student that practically the entire student body was talking about. Once Yami entered the cafeteria, a buzz of gossip arose, and before Yuugi could count to ten, the cloud disrupted into streams and the tables surrounding him and Anzu were chattering like hissing cockroaches.

Yuugi picked at the tofu cubes on his tray, pondering. "He told me his name is Yami, but I don't know anything else about him." He stared over towards the long, steel benches, glancing over the image of the very handsome student with a furrowed brow. "I tried to be nice to him, but I think he just wants to be left alone." He observed the curious sparkle in his friend's bright blue eyes, and he realized exactly what she was thinking. "Anzu—"

"I was just wondering. You know, he might be single. I mean, I highly doubt it, but seriously Yuugi, _look _at him!" She suppressed a huge sigh of adoration, just from observing him from afar like this. "I wonder why no one's sitting beside him."

"Anzu…" Yuugi frowned. He really hoped she wasn't going to walk up to him like this.

From what he could tell, this Yami character was shrouded in a cloud of mystery that was not about to be eagerly revealed at anytime soon. It would have shocked Yuugi greatly if he actually responded to what he expected to be Anzu's romantic advances. At times, she could be quite flirtatious, but she had several failed relationships that only Yuugi happened to know about.

"Anzu, I really don't think it would be a good idea. I tried talking to him and he just didn't look interested at all in conversation. Maybe we should give him some space."

His friend pouted at this, but she considered the possibilities. She sighed and turned to him with an apologetic smile. "I think you're right, Yuugi." She proceeded to talk about her day, and the interests that inhabited her classes, and just how much she despised Ushio and his gang of ruthless thugs.

But Yuugi, for once in a long time, really wasn't paying attention to a word she was saying. Instead, his attention was burned into Yami, who was still sitting alone, looking quite awkward amidst the empty chairs and the school supplies set in front of him. He was filling something out in a dark red pen—did he even eat? The fact that his lunch wasn't set in front of him made Yuugi suspect the worst—could the new boy be anorexic? Bulimic? He certainly hoped not; that physique would be telling lies.

He blushed at his own thoughts and ducked his head. He hoped the other didn't notice him.

He sighed in exasperation, staring down at his tray and observing his scattered food remnants with a tarnished expression. He had already lost his appetite, and his thoughts suddenly zoomed towards his grandfather, who was sitting safely tucked in a bed at the game shop less than three blocks from the school. He hoped that he would make it out of the building in time to actually see his grandfather and make sure that the procedures were done correctly.

"Oh, Yuugi," Anzu began, and he glanced up, blinking to focus. "How's your grandpa doing? I know that he's still… contained, but I hope that it's a lot smoother of a process now."

Yuugi hesitated, his left hand fiddling with a plastic spoon. "He's doing better. The doctor comes and visits him every Tuesday to make sure that his heart and brain are functioning properly, but he still says there's no sign of him waking up soon."

She frowned. "Oh. I see."

She was smart enough to know not to pry any further, but Yuugi liked that about his one and only friend. She was decent enough of a person to respect his boundaries and retract her questions for much better circumstances, and in this case, his grandfather was an untouchable subject. If anyone else had asked him about his grandfather's condition he would have snapped at them and told them to leave him alone.

And since his parents were gone, he was forced to take care of his grandfather alone. He ran the game shop over the weekends so that he wouldn't have to miss his high school classes, and thankfully the shop raked in enough money to pay the bills, but that was all he could do. If the school knew he had a job, even if it was absolutely necessary, he would be expelled. The risk was high but he needed to do whatever he could to secure the game shop and help his grandfather.

A loud _smack _of metal against tile echoed through the cafeteria, silencing all chatter and breaking Yuugi from his daydream.

The scene playing out before them was not what he expected.

Yami was standing up, his shoulders rigid and his arms completely frozen beside the table. His supplies were shoved onto the ground, leaving spilled contents of spiraled notebooks, textbooks and numerous ballpoint pens. The perpetrator was Ushio; the huge bully giving Yami a thorough glare before he shoved his hands against the other's shoulders, pushing him back several inches.

Yuugi held his breath, and wondered if Yami was going to snap, but he remained perfectly still, his eyes significantly narrowed and his lips pursed. He was stubborn, Yuugi guessed, but how long would he last?

"Well aren't you a pretty boy, eh? Just another _cocksucker_, aren't ya?" The bully rolled his trunk of a neck until a _snap _echoed from his bones. "I bet ya love to get down and dirty like the fucking fag you are," Ushio taunted, his face inches from Yami's, saliva trickling down his chin. His large, menacing brown eyes were pulsing with disgusting pleasure of violence and rage. He wanted a reaction, and the students surrounding the scene were anticipating exactly that.

Yami dipped his head, avoiding Ushio's eye contact. He stepped to the side, and tried to walk past him, but the brute grabbed his shoulder and slammed him back, pinning him against the wall. He lifted his other fist, as if ready to break Yami's chin, cheekbone, or jaw—whatever his rock-hard hand would be able to come in contact with.

But Yami remained vigilant, completely still and absorbing each and every second that passed. He did not move, did not say a single word, but there was a hidden, sacred emotion that flashed through those lavender eyes, darkening the impeccable shade and injecting a serum of hope into Yuugi's conflicting soul. He watched as Ushio prepared for the first strike, the practical memento that his future victims carried with them, and Yami just waited for it—

"_Stop_!"

The exclamation ripped from Yuugi's throat before he could stop it. His arm was outstretched, defiance gripping his body and causing him to move in ways that he would normally never command, but as soon as the attention diverted to him, he found his stomach flip-flopping in nervous anticipation. His eyebrows knitted together, his fingers curling into his palms, and his breath shaky; he needed to do whatever he could to form a distraction. And apparently, it was working.

Ushio's knuckles rolled, his wild, untamed eyes turning towards Yuugi. They glowed with thirst and hatred that hadn't been seen in any other encounter Yuugi had with him on any day of the week. His muscles were tense and his teeth were grinding, and the students that were smart enough to step away from the beast were too petrified to run and grab a teacher or the principal or, hell, even call the fucking cops.

Yuugi swallowed, bracing himself. Anzu was still beside him, unbelieving.

"What… did you say to me?" Ushio growled, standing as tall as an ogre from a fairy tale over Yuugi's form. Yuugi refused to look away, no matter how much he wanted to, or how much Ushio frightened him; for some oddball reason, it was a risk he was going to take here and now. "Say that again, you _fucking brat_."

Yuugi swallowed. The sound pierced the silence like a dropped pencil.

"I said… to stop. He did nothing to you."

He couldn't blink before Ushio's mammoth hands grappled his neck and shoved him against the wall. The impact released vibrations of pain into his spine, and his knees buckled with nervousness. He stared, wide-eyed, absolutely merciful, to the weight of the other's grip. Ushio's hands only tightened around him, and his teeth were grinding so heavily it seemed that they would chip away against each other like marble.

"_Listen to me_, _Mutou_," Ushio growled out; the words barely forming between his embarrassing holdup and his pulsing jaw. "You don't _ever _hold me back from a good _beating_. You're lucky I ain't splattering the walls with your fucking ugly face!" he drew in a shaky, loose breath, the words sending shivers along Yuugi's skin, lifting his flesh in bumps.

Yuugi was trying desperately to breathe. The images of the other students' faces blurred together in a mess of washed out colors. Steel tables turned over and his vision turned hazy—swirling into a dramatic mirage, a good distance form the corner of Ushio's huge shoulder, was Yami, the boy Yuugi somehow felt the urge to save. This thought rammed into his temples and blood circulated through his arms and legs, numbing the remainder of his body.

And then he slammed his knee into Ushio's groin, causing the bully to howl in pain and collapse on himself.

A collected gasp echoed through the cafeteria, and Anzu still had trouble finding her voice. Yuugi impacted the floor, swallowing for only a couple seconds as he glanced up and noticed the bully doubled over in pain, clutching the disturbed area, veins pulsing on his disgustingly white neck and his lips curled in rage. Yuugi stood up—heart slamming against his ribs, aching as a hollowing void in his chest—and dashed as far as his feet could carry him. His short legs would only bring him so far, his arms pumping and his thoughts racing at a mile a minute. He kept picturing Ushio collecting himself immediately and hunting him down, ready to break every bone in his body and make a true statement.

He didn't know where he was going, or where he was planning to end up, but he turned sharp corners, nearly ran into walls and did whatever he could to keep himself awake and upright. Ushio's voice—his taunts, his false promises, his brutal verbal and physical lashings that left his soul and body rimmed with scars, pulsed through his head and rammed against his temples as if they were bongos. He finally stopped, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air, his back pressed against the old wooden door to a storage room closet. His fingertips trailed along the smooth metal surface of the cramping lockers beside him, claustrophobia flooding his senses, filling his mind with contempt and old worries.

He gripped the doorknob to the room and allowed himself in, cautiously breathing and listening to the sound of his own heartbeat. He searched for the light switch, grimacing as a golden glow radiated through the tight closet. Wooden and plastic brooms were placed in garbage bins. Colorful Frisbees and hula-hoops were stacked off to the side, painted in rainbows. A spilled-over canister of tennis balls rolled to his feet, and he gulped, frustration lingering in the back of his skull like a harsh, disembodied whisper.

He scolded himself for running.

He sat there, drinking in the silence. His grandfather's words traveled slickly through his mind like a serpent: _Don't ever be afraid. No one can touch you, as long as you protect yourself. _Tears bloomed, and he quickly brushed them away, leaving scratches on his cheeks from the material on his sleeves. He exhaled shakily and focused on the doorknob to the hallways, hoping, willing, that Ushio would not find him here.

Five minutes passed. Fifteen. Thirty.

An hour.

Would it be safe to walk outside? It had been eerily quiet, so quiet that it made Yuugi's skin shiver in gooseflesh. Perhaps it was a trick being played on him. Maybe it was all an act, and Ushio was waiting patiently for him to step out of the closet, and he would walk right into those brutal, clenched fists. He did the unthinkable, after all: he humiliated Ushio in front of the entire student body. It was punishable by means that no one discussed, and not even Anzu had anything to say on the matter.

He was _fucked_.

Suddenly, the doorknob shook, a heavy pounding shaking the doorframe and causing the ceiling to rattle. The light bulb attached to ceiling broke off and fell onto the ground, shattering into a thousand glistening fragments. Yuugi stared at it and got up, shuffling for whatever weapon he could use. He snatched a hockey stick from one of the garbage bins. Sweat dripped from his nose and forehead.

The door crashed down, broken, destroyed. Fragments of wood and metal splintered into many directions, and the culprit was exactly who Yuugi expected—Ushio, with his amazingly triumphant grin, his startling smile, his terrifying features and the repulsive way his veins glowed almost neon beneath his reptilian flesh. The massive hulk of muscles, grinding teeth and slick oily hair mashed his fists together and stared at Yuugi like a tasty morsel set out for wolves.

The boy waited for an attack—he waited for the enormous bully to grab him, to throw him against the wall and cackle at his misery. But what he saw next struck him odd, and it was the first time that he was truly speechless that entire day.

Ushio's mask of confidence and promised violence crumbled, and he tipped in the opposite direction—no explanation, no threats shouted, no weapons drawn—falling onto the ground with a sickening _smack_. He simply lay there, unmoving, his mouth open, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in a grotesque image of what an ogre might have looked like after passing out drunk. His eyes were wide, still open, still breathing a sense of life, until that disappeared altogether.

The realization of it all struck Yuugi, crashing down on him in waves.

He dropped the hockey stick.

And screamed.

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The police arrived onto Domino High School's normally non-disruptive grounds, badges flashing and dominance counting off their questions in huge numbers. They stalked the halls as if they owned the place, questioning all they could and gathering whatever clues they could find.

Yuugi's foot tapped impatiently against the polished oaken floors of the principal's office. To occupy his jumbling thoughts, he popped in earphones and listened to whatever loud, drumming rhythm of music he could to push away the frightening images and tortured voices tumbling in his mind and demanding his attention.

He scoped the room, transferring any still image, anything peaceful, to block out what he had seen in the last several hours. Beige wallpaper covered the walls, striped in periwinkle and peach, leading to a cream ceiling that was stretched over with iron lights rimmed in glass. He lowered his gaze to the black hardwood desk, recently coated in an extra layer of paint and stacked obsessively (and compulsively) with various documents, textbooks, ballpoint pens and a lone quill pen that stood off to the right. It was spaced several inches from an unopened bottle of ink, the label still pressed over the jar and describing the substance in thick bold letters.

_Don't ever be afraid_.

Sugoroku Mutou's voice happened to slither through his ears whenever he didn't want to hear it. Tilting his head back, Yuugi drowned his worries in the music, turning up the volume and listening to the smooth rhythm of jazz. Melodious tones and whispers soothed his senses, but only slightly, as he could still hear the disruptive rhythm of police interrogating the principal and various students outside the door.

The more he remembered the events from before, the more he realized just how much of this was his fault. If he hadn't said a word, if he hadn't mentioned anything, if he hadn't felt that strange, ethereal _pull _that caused him to stand up and order Ushio to stand down… and for Yami.

_Yami_.

He didn't even know him. He sauntered into class just several hours ago as a brand new student, and had barely said any words to Yuugi. Why did he lash out against Ushio when he cornered Yami? If Yuugi hadn't known any better, maybe the eventual victim was completely fine taking care of himself. Something told him that his efforts were meaningless, and now Ushio… now the bully that tormented his dreams, his nightmares, and pulled at his necessary fears, was _gone_.

He was _dead_.

The door creaked open, unfiltered light spilling into the tempered room. Yuugi removed his earphones, finding the thick silence immediately uncomfortable. He lifted his gaze, blinking at the sight of the interrogating officer. He was a tall, reasonably young man, with tightly narrowed features, sharp brown eyes that demanded authority and attention, and a strange hairstyle that was slicked into a needlepoint shape. His broad shoulders and seemingly muscular physique was hidden underneath the layers of leather and bulletproof material that certified him as a police officer.

He bent down on his knee, facing Yuugi directly in the eye, and instantly Yuugi felt the need to gather his temperament and square the other man down as if he was the exact same size and actually had the chance to command that type of authority. But he was half the size, half the stature, and probably nowhere near as intelligent or authoritative, but his stubbornness started to peak and he needed to silence it before it took over.

"Yuugi Mutou," the officer started, his voice a low and smooth tone. "The death of Ushio Tetsu has sparked quite a lot of talk around the campus. I know that it would be unprofessional to question you here, on school grounds." The officer gestured to his surroundings, eyes flickering to different corners before settling back down on Yuugi once more. The teenager felt his body stiffen underneath the weight of such a glare. "The students I have questioned tell me that you started something in the cafeteria only an hour before Ushio was found dead."

Yuugi didn't know what possessed him to retaliate, but he did, and his tongue lashed out before he could stop it. "I didn't kill him, and you have no proof that I did." His muscles tightened at his words and he mentally slapped himself. The officer blinked slowly at his statement.

"No… we don't have any solid proof," he said slowly. "But we do have the right to question you. If you do not cooperate, we will be forced to bring you to our headquarters immediately. No questions, no interruptions."

Yuugi hesitated. "I…" He shook his head. "You have to listen to me, Officer. I ran because Ushio Tetsu always threatened to kill me. He was choking me and so, I hit him and escaped. I hid in that storage closet for an hour, and he broke it down. And… then he collapsed. Dead. Right in front of me." Recalling the events only made him want to purge his stomach. The sight of that boulder of a teenager's bones breaking under the impact of his fall, his lifeless eyes wide and turning unreadable right in front of him—

It was just impossible.

The officer seemed interested, but Yuugi knew he thought he was completely crazy. That look was definitely there, hidden beneath the layers of brown. "I see." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We will… look into this, and recover any clues that we find to what happened to this student." He stared at Yuugi, as if trying to crack him open like a coconut and inspect the pieces that the teenager refused to leave out for him. "This will not be the last time we see each other, Mr. Mutou. My team and I will take our leave for today and seek out more personal matters, but in the meantime you should see a counselor."

Yuugi dipped his head. "I have nothing more to say."

"Right now, you don't," the officer added, and quickly snapped his mouth shut and walked out the door when he had nothing more to say.

Yuugi buried his face into his hands, thinking over and over again how he possibly got himself into this. He deliberately disobeyed some of his own morals and ran for his fucking life, and now Ushio was _dead _from an _unknown cause _and Yuugi knew for a fact that these police officers suspected him to be the murderer. There were no witnesses, and…

And no one had killed him. What could have offed Ushio like that? He was standing there, and then… he wasn't.

_I should be glad. _A lump rose in his throat. He should have been delighted that his bully, his tormentor, suffered a visually painful death, and now his soul had gone to Hell and Yuugi was free for the time being. He wasn't going to be victimized by the homophobic son of a bitch anymore, but not a single ounce of satisfaction dwelled in his stomach. He wanted to purge his thoughts, to punish himself for thinking this way.

It wasn't _normal_.

He refused to wait here, in this godforsaken room, just to be questioned again about an event that he knew he wasn't a complete part of. Someone must have killed Ushio, but he had no idea who, and even if he was the primary suspect, he didn't want to hear about it right now.

He stood up and marched out the door, spilling into the hallway. His eyes practically bulged, glancing around him in confusion. From what he could see, the hallways were completely clear, the bustling tension of police officers, and even Principal Smith had vanished from the interrogation sequence. Only twenty minutes ago, the halls were crowded with bustling teenagers, questioned by the authorities and crafting whatever tales they could to be placed on the front page of the fucking _Domino Times _newspaper.

"You don't look like the killing type."

Yuugi blinked and stared at the owner of the voice, of the intrusion that was as slick as serpentine venom and yet as hollow and mysterious as the chime of bells. Yami stood against the lockers, his hands shoved into his pockets, the familiar jet-black pullover striking against his porcelain skin. His lips—surprisingly smooth in appearance—were curved into a barely-contained grin of what seemed to be satisfaction. Yuugi stiffened as the pressure in the school, in the very _hall_, compressed and tightened his heart and stomach.

"Because I'm not," Yuugi barked, restraining himself from lashing out completely.

His fingers twitched and the muscles inside his eyelid contracted, and he was sure that he looked like a crazy person just waiting to be forced inside a mental institution. His other concerns came flooding back into the chamber that remained as his mind; his grandfather, the unoccupied game shop, the mysterious policeman with the pointed hairstyle…

"I do not believe you killed him," Yami muttered quietly, lifting his back from the lockers and slowly pacing towards Yuugi. Instinctively, the teenager stepped back, suspicion clouding the dark amethyst pools that served as his wary, observant eyes. Yami seemed to notice this, but he was completely unreadable to Yuugi. "But I'm afraid that the suspicion is still there. The officers certainly think you did."

"You don't need to remind me." Yuugi turned away from him. Staring at this practical stranger still made his toes curl and his blood pressure reach a new height.

It felt… _strange_, around this Yami character, as if he could uncover his secrets and toy with his mind in whatever manner he wanted. But he barely knew him, and those thoughts still lingered, begging him to test out just who this person was. Maybe making another friend—no, no, he couldn't even fathom that.

"Why did you stop him?" Yami asked.

Yuugi blinked, pivoting on his heel. He was just about to stride out those doors, to reach his grandfather as soon as he possibly could, to make sure that the old man was still sleeping peacefully. But that question hung thickly in the air like palpable molasses, and it drilled into Yuugi's senses, commanding his attention.

He hesitated. "I really can't give you an answer for that."

"… I find it interesting."

"Well, glad I could amuse you," Yuugi whispered back, a headache starting to form. He didn't have time for this. "Are you done now?"

"I didn't read anything about questions becoming a crime."

"Perhaps you should get your eyes checked, then," Yuugi snapped, and instantly he shook his head in surprise at his own actions. Just what the hell was _wrong _with him?

Yami didn't seem bothered by this. His face—that strangely ethereal, beautiful tangle of hidden emotions and secrets—suddenly had Yuugi pressed against the opposite wall. His face was so close; lips as polished as marble parting and allowing breath, _warm_ and _intrusive_, to snake trails over the nape of the much smaller boy's neck. Tempered heat rose in Yuugi's senses, clouding his earlier judgments, shrouding the images of his grandfather stretched across his bed, trapped in a coma…

What was going on?

And suddenly, Yami's eyes changed. They were no longer the intriguing depths of sharply cut lavender, darkened in shadows and mystery. They had transformed into globes of tantalizing lava, liquefying emotions that Yuugi could not decipher in his hazy mind, and they bled so much more, commanding his attention, ordering him to remain still and gaze deeper into them. Suddenly, he felt his senses pour dramatically towards Yami against his will, even though his brain fought back with what little energy he had.

"Get my eyes checked, hm?" Yami breathed—no, no, that voice was very different. The silky, smooth tone that swept as easily as curtains had dropped to a low, demanding baritone. It was incredibly sexy and shook Yuugi's body to the core, his tongue and lips drying at the intense change. Yuugi struggled to glance lower from the other's hypnotic stare, but he could not ignore the dramatic curve—the _smirk_—that now captured his lips in a seductive motion.

_RUN!_

Yuugi snapped out of his stupor, shoving Yami away from him and dashing out of the doors, an unwelcome rainstorm sweeping his uniform in a frenzy. He blinked away the harsh drops and shoved past a sea of unassuming students, forgetting his supplies, his backpack, or whatever he could have needed at school.

He would dare not look behind him, afraid that he would catch the silhouette of the boy in the black sweater trailing his movements and chasing him until he cornered him again.

Yuugi needed to clear his head.

Just…

Just what the _hell _was that?

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**Reviews?**


	2. Chapter Two

**Title:**_ The Boy in the Black Sweater_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Supernatural/Angst/Horror/Mystery/Drama/ Romance_

**Coupling: **_Mobiumshipping_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_There was just something about the new kid; he walked in silent strides, embracing a cloak of mystery and dismissing the constant attention tossed his way; indeed, the boy in the jet-black pullover was a new figment of interest in Yuugi's life that he longed to pursue and uncover for secrets. The attention needed to be diverted from his own life for a change._

_But there was much more to the boy in the black sweater, much more than Yuugi could have ever imagined, and with otherworldly forces clawing at his every footstep, there is no way he can escape._

_He shouldn't have let himself in._

* * *

**The Boy in the Black Sweater**

C**h**a**p**t**e**r **T**w**o**

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_**September 10**__**th**__**, 2013**_

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The sound of Sugoroku Mutou's labored breathing was the only stretch of comfort that Yuugi allowed himself to feel. He twiddled his thumbs, gemstone eyes narrowed in concentration as he surveyed the elderly man's passive look. The fact that his grandfather has been stuck in a coma for several years now only made his schedule tighter and much more worrisome. He watched over the game shop constantly and thankfully was pulling enough money in to satisfy his primary needs, but to have Sugoroku bedridden like this, to see him so peaceful and yet knowing he was in pain… it was frustrating, and it drove Yuugi's senses up the wall just thinking about how he was going to cope for much longer.

It didn't help that the police kept watching him from the shadows. If he walked out of his grandfather's store to stop and get some ice cream with Anzu, he would detect familiar black uniforms with those same glistening silver and golden badges. That one officer with the distinctive pinpointed haircut was nowhere to be seen, but those intimidating brown eyes could be detected from a miles-long radius. All that Yuugi had to do was blend in for now, pretend that nothing suspicious was going on, when in fact the exact opposite was happening.

He still couldn't shake the encounter with Yami out of his head. The new student gave Yuugi a very, very dangerous vibe, and that had a lot to do with the fact that his eyes changed color when he approached him. The tone of his whisper, the way his words slithered through Yuugi's eardrums like serpents almost drove him crazy with anticipation and curiosity.

But what else was Yami hiding? He clearly wasn't normal; there was no doubt in Yuugi's mind. Since it'd been three days since Ushio was somehow murdered in the middle of the hallway, skeptical accusations spurred in classrooms and even his own teachers would pull him aside to discuss with him about his mental health. All in the span of three days, he hoped that it would be glossed over and never discussed again, but of course he was never going to have that luxury.

It didn't help that he crossed paths with Yami almost hourly. The boy's black pullover was a practical trademark and he was never seen without it—strangely enough, Yuugi found it very easy to pick him out amongst a crowd of blue and pink uniforms, since the jet-black material wasn't exactly blending in that type of background. But Yuugi never approached him, never questioned him as to why he was somehow always in Yuugi's path, always observing him even though he believed Yuugi couldn't tell.

He even tried light conversation over dissecting frogs. Yuugi buried his face into his hands at the memory. Labeling amphibian organs had never been so awkward. He basically tried to ignore Yami for most of their conversations, but the other man was so persistent that he had to give in at points. He just didn't trust him, and what was worse was that Anzu was becoming even more protective than usual.

Although she thought Yami was attractive, she still stood by Yuugi's side. If he suspected something was wrong with Yami, she would agree with him and try to help him out of his situation. Of course he didn't have any actual proof that Yami was a terrible, scary person. Actually, it was just the opposite; Yami was quite neutral with him, nodding at him in the hallways, smirking when he passed by… his eyes never did change color again though.

It was very weird.

The copper bell attached to the bedroom door chimed three times, signaling that a customer had walked into the store. Yuugi sighed and stood up, silently saying his goodbyes to his grandfather before slipping on a cleaner white shirt and hopping downstairs. None of his customers seemed to know that his grandfather was sleeping in a coma right above their heads, but he believed it was best that they didn't know.

He stopped in front of the cash register, putting on a wide, magnetic smile that he was used to practicing at this point. "Welcome to Kame Game Shop," he announced, and blinked in puzzlement at the people that entered.

She was very young, probably about five years older than him, and definitely one of the most beautiful people he had ever laid eyes on. She stood at a generous height, boasting a willow-slim figure with porcelain skin and kind, ethereal ocean-blue eyes. They glistened like twin pools of sapphire, and her pink lips were spread into a genuinely thoughtful smile. Long pearly hair was strung up in a bun on her head, and she looked like she just left work; she was dressed in a sharply-cut black business jacket, a flowing white blouse and pinstriped pants that dropped to a pair of shiny onyx flats.

His brow furrowed and then his eyes bulged out of their sockets. He knew exactly who this woman was.

"Ms. Malgren," Yuugi whispered in surprise. She nodded at this and walked up to his desk, carrying a thick briefcase with her. "What are you doing here?" he asked in partial awe. "I thought you moved to New York."

Kisara Malgren was a talented journalist and newspaper editor who used to interview students on Domino High School grounds. She left during Yuugi's sophomore year to pursue a much more serious writing career, and she was always very kind and thoughtful in her interviews; she never pestered too much, but she always somehow acquired the information she needed to take several steps forward.

To see her standing in front of him after years of absence was a little surprising at most.

"It's good to see you again Yuugi," Kisara said, dipping her head to examine his features in a closer distance. "I always knew you would continue to grow to be a very handsome young man. But I am here for a reason, Yuugi, and I'm sure that you will need to know the details and quickly." She sighed before setting her briefcase on top of the desk, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Um… here, we can go somewhere more comfortable," Yuugi muttered awkwardly, gesturing with a flick of his head towards the door beside him. He waited until she was several steps behind him as he opened the door, leading her to a cozy, yet slightly claustrophobic space that his grandfather would have referred to as the "living room".

Though it wasn't technically a room at all; the game shop only allowed so much space. A beige carpet was stretched across the entire floor, with a lone coffee table, a television set and two couches sitting across from each other being the only furniture. Yuugi's nose wrinkled to the light stench wafting from the near-broken air conditioner.

Kisara settled down easily; she was always polite, and although they hadn't really known each other, Yuugi remembered her to be a very respectable and intelligent woman. To see her in his house now was more awkward than anything, but clearly she had a specific reason for being there.

Yuugi sat down on one of the couches, his shoulders rigid and his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip in uncertainty. He waited until Kisara had unpacked all that she needed, to which Yuugi's brow furrowed in slight suspicion. A touchscreen notebook was set before her, next to a manila envelope and a very expensive-looking camera—each item just as sleek and professional as the woman who owned them.

"I arrived in town only a few hours ago because your principal called for me." Kisara's fingers glided across her touchscreen device, fingernails clapping against glass in a rhythmic motion. Every movement she had was graceful and poised, as if she was born with the blood of a ballerina. "I really didn't want to accept this proposition from him, Yuugi, because I know that you're a very good kid and the last thing I want to do is to write something about you for the police."

Yuugi blinked. "Wha—wait, what? I didn't…" He stopped, shaking his head. "Ms. Malgren, there's been a huge misunderstanding with the police. I'm still trying to work things out—"

"I know you are," Kisara continued. "But I am here to help you work those things out." She paused, her tongue sweeping over her lips in pondering. "I heard about Ushio Tetsu's death. He was always a very… troubled, student." She picked her words carefully. "I remember when his parents had me meet him, to check his temperament and to check in with him about his bullying history. After I left I hadn't received any more calls regarding Ushio's behavior, but your principal mentioned that something did occur before he was found dead."

Yuugi swallowed. "You have to understand," he started, his eyes flickering towards each corner of the room, anywhere but having to face Kisara in the eye. Those dark sapphire depths were brimming with intelligence and near-mind-reading ability. She was so smart, and he had to remain one step ahead of her so that she didn't draw any terrible conclusions. "Ushio threatened to kill me. He was choking me and I kicked him to escape. I hid in a closet for an hour or so and then he opened it…" He paused. "And this, this is why no one believes me. They think I killed him somehow."

Kisara blinked in puzzlement. "That… was what the police mentioned, but I find that very hard to believe just from knowing you." She cracked a small smirk; the action looked like a chiseled imperfection in a marble statue. "The police sent me here to write up a report on the matter, but I'm not sure I'm going to follow through with it unless you want me to."

Yuugi shrugged, sighing. "You can try telling them the truth."

"That's what I want, Yuugi, the truth. But the public isn't going to buy that you simply stood and watched Ushio collapse on the ground dead." Kisara had an apologetic look cross her features. "Believe me, Yuugi, this is the last thing that I wanted to do, but it's important."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand why it's so important. You're not even being paid for this." The woman frowned at his words, as if hurt that he didn't trust her, and she wasn't the type to play games with him. Still, an ambitious yet kindhearted woman like Kisara would do whatever she could to scoop the story of the decade.

No matter how much she appreciated him as a person.

"You're right, I'm not," she admitted softly. "However, the police wanted me to come as a trusted source to acquire the information they want. I can tell, though… somehow, I can tell that you're telling the truth. I've always seen that glimmer in your eyes, Yuugi; like you would be the most obvious liar in the world and any other person would be blind to see it."

He blinked slowly at her reasoning. "I… well, I guess you can say that." He turned away sheepishly, focusing on a cobweb in the corner.

"You don't have to shy away from me," Kisara continued, her fingers once again dancing over the glass touchscreen. "I haven't even written anything official yet. These are just notes."

"I have nothing more to say," Yuugi replied quickly.

"I'm just a normal teenager still, Ms. Malgren. I haven't changed since you left. My grandpa's… still in a coma," he finished awkwardly, "and I'm still embracing the unpopularity from school. I'm still chased in the hallways from time to time, hoping that I can leave school on time just to get here and look after the store for a few hours before running upstairs and taking care of my grandpa. Then I check with the doctors to see if they're set on arriving soon to check on my grandfather, and then I can sleep. But it's hard to sometimes."

Kisara's fingertips paused, her expression changing from curious and thought provoking to gentle and maternal. She lowered the device, the sympathy radiating from her glistening eyes like chipped gemstone fragments. "Yuugi, do you just need someone to talk to?"

His fingers tightened around his knuckles, and he felt his teeth bite the inside of his lip. Maybe he had said too much. He was so used to sitting across a smooth mahogany desk from the woman that Kisara was several years ago, telling her about his problems and listening to her soothing, silky voice remind him that he was still a normal person going through everyday high school life. But that wasn't the case most of the time—she helped him out of several scrapes in the past, whether he was framed for total nonsense or he was wrongfully punished by ridiculous certain balding Australian teachers with nothing better to do—

"Do you want me to leave, Yuugi?" she whispered, breaking him out of his daydream. Hesitating, he ended up dipping his head in hopes that she would understand. Instead of frowning in disappointment, she smiled brightly and stood up, gathering her high-tech belongings. "I promise that I will make a phone call ahead of time. This won't be the last time you see me. I wish you and your grandfather well until next time."

Yuugi watched in slight surprise as she led herself out of the store. He glanced down at his thumbs, and noticed that his nails had scraped the tips raw from nervousness and recalling certain memories. Shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number that he wasn't expecting to call that day.

"_Hello?"_

"Hey, Anzu," he choked out, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. "You're not going to believe who I just saw."

* * *

"Is she still the same as she was all those years ago?" Anzu questioned, baffled as she slurped from her chocolate and strawberry milkshake.

After Yuugi called her, she gradually picked him up and drove him to one of his favorite sweets places, hoping they could talk in person. She learned only days after meeting him that the best way to listen to her friend was in person in one of the more relaxed locations available; in this case, it happened to be Sunny Duval's Ice Cream Parlor. To her amusement, Yuugi ordered his usual favorite: a banana split with two scoops of vanilla drizzled in caramel and topped with a singular sugared cherry.

"Yeah, actually," the teenager replied, eyeing the remnants of a half-eaten banana and a tower of whipped cream. "She told me that the police asked her to interview me for their records or something. She didn't pester me, and I didn't expect her to." He paused, remembering how she moved and how she talked, how Kisara happened to be a very respectful person and she backed off when she needed to. "She's a very successful journalist and I really have no idea how she can be when she's so nice like that."

"It's just how she is. I always liked her," Anzu replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, it's not like she's a manipulative person at heart. I kinda miss her." Her lips curled into a mock-pout, and she placed her elbows on the table to balance her chin on her overturned hands. "So… what exactly happened though, Yuugi?"

He eyed her warily. "I was serious the first time I explained. I wasn't delirious or anything. Ushio bashed down the door… and then collapsed. Dead as a doornail, right there in front of me." He was honestly exhausted of explaining himself to so many people, but it was understandable sine there were no witnesses—

He frowned. Wait…

"Were there any witnesses to that other than me, Anzu?" he questioned, his words slicing the thick air like a hot knife through butter. The girl glanced at him in slight confusion before her features brightened in understanding.

"I don't think so," she muttered, but she didn't sound sure. "I didn't ask anyone. Everyone just assumed that you were alone." She tilted her head to the side. "Do you… have an idea on who else could have witnessed it? If so you should tell the police immediately." She was so serious and concerned for him, and honestly she had every right to be.

He swallowed and was about to answer when something caught his eye. Just outside the window, he saw him—the boy in the black sweater.

Yami stood just outside the expansive glass window of the parlor with his hands in his pockets. His back was turned to them, but the distinctive arch of his spine and the way he confidently carried himself in that familiar dark pullover was a red flag that it was him… not to mention that insanely wild hair that could be seen from miles away.

Anzu followed his gaze, and she grinned wickedly. "Oh, Yuugi, I told you that he was good-looking! But what the heck is he doing here?"

Yuugi blushed and glared at his longtime friend. "Anzu, it's not like that. He actually scares me a lot. Sometimes I feel like he follows me around." He sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples and rubbing them in annoyance. Maybe he was just being paranoid—sure, Yami was an incredibly mysterious and interesting character, but there was no way the practical stranger was following him around, right?

The doors opened, the chiming bells signaling the appearance of a new customer. Yuugi thought back to when Kisara walked into the game shop; the jingle was even similar, and it struck him odd that the same action only occurred in the same day just hours before.

Yami strode in, and Yuugi's world blanched in sickening polar white. He gripped the edges of the table, turning his face away to avoid the scoping lavender eyes that were taking in the surroundings of the parlor. He wanted to bury his face into his ice cream and pretend that Yami didn't even exist; he was making this whole experience much more complicated than it needed to be.

Anzu frowned at Yuugi. "Is something wrong? You don't look like so good."

"I'm just…" Yuugi groaned, staring up at the ceiling and trying to count the tiles. He wished he could distract himself long enough to leave—but what if Yami saw him? He would somehow slink by to trail after him again and maybe even confront him at his house—no; Yuugi could not risk that strange student finding his house. It was too thick of a chance that something questionable would happen.

He grimaced at the subtle lurch in his gag reflex and placed one hand over his mouth. He turned away in embarrassment. Anzu blinked at this reaction and reached a hand out to comfort him, but he quickly swatted it away, shaking his head in order to try to make her understand. He stepped off his seat and dashed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open and rushing to the closest stall possible. He purged his fears, his misguided anguish into the toilet below him, grimacing at the uncomfortable feeling plaguing his emptying stomach, his fingers gripping his shirt to hold the collar down.

Covered in sweat and feeling his muscles ache from the energy spent, he slumped against the locked door of the stall, the bitter taste of vomit lingering in his mouth and under his tongue. He wished Anzu didn't have to see him like this; years had passed since he was forced to push her helping hand away, to dodge whatever compassion she could give him as he vented his secrecies and pieces of shame into a toilet bowl. It was so embarrassing to him and it sapped so much energy and livelihood on top of it.

He stood up, ignoring the slight buckle in his knees as he blindly reached for the knob on the stall door, slowly creaking it open to see if anyone had seen him dash like a mad man for the restroom. He walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing curtains of water over his face and using his collared shirt as a makeshift towel. He glanced up, expecting to see his reflection, but instantly held back a scream at the sight of a familiar man standing right behind him, one eyebrow risen in curiosity and wonderment.

Yuugi spun around and grappled the marbled edges of the sinks, his eyes bulging wide in surprise. Yami stood there, looking totally innocent and surprised to see him there, but his arms were crossed over his chest as if he had been _watching _him that whole time, and an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Yuugi's tossing and turning stomach.

"What… what are you doing here?" Yuugi spat, cringing at his own words. Normally he wouldn't snap like this but the person standing in front of him betrayed any sense of comfort he would normally have.

"I came here for the same reason as any other normal person who would need a restroom." Yami seemed amused by this, but a flash of—what was that? Concern—some emotion passed over his features and glistened in those ridiculously intriguing purple eyes.

Yuugi swallowed and his attention flickered to the door. Maybe Yami wouldn't stop him this time; it wouldn't be like he tried to stop him in the building. "Right," he whispered, not believing the other at all. Paranoia gripped his muscles and bones in a pair of icy claws.

Yami seemed puzzled at this behavior. "You look sick."

"I'm _fine_." Yuugi groaned, turning back to face the mirror and placing his hands by the faucet, as if ready to use the water again. Still, he felt too ill to even walk to the door… just what the hell was going on with him? He bristled as Yami approached him; his reflection in the mirror seemed languid and smooth, and the way the other moved towards him was traced in a brisk manner. The other stared at him carefully; drinking in details that Yuugi was not at all familiar with.

"No you're not, you're sick," Yami replied matter-of-factly. "You're a terrible liar; I can tell," he continued; that dreadfully hypnotic voice nearly took over Yuugi's brain, but he refused to listen to his thoughts this time. He needed to stay away from this person if he wanted to think clearly—but his body wouldn't even more an inch towards the door! There was something wrong with him and he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

"What do you want from me?" Yuugi whispered, swallowing in uncertainty. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Gasping, he blinked as his body was swiftly turned around, slender, oddly powerful arms positioned on both sides of his body, the figure of the gorgeous near-stranger pressing him against the sink. They were only breaths apart, and Yuugi was forced to turn his attention into those hypnotic orbs of… red.

They changed again, and those lips turned upwards into that ridiculously charismatic smirk for a second time. Yuugi remembered that same smirk from only days before, in a very similar position. Heat flushed Yuugi's cheeks and ran a severe length down his neck, warming the remainder of his skin until he realized that this was not embarrassment he was feeling.

"Hmm… what to do with you…" the red-eyed Yami whispered; his tone was hollow, almost like a disembodied voice, like it didn't belong in that body, to that alluring porcelain face. His long lashes flickered innocently when he spoke, and his hand quickly took Yuugi's chin and tilted him upwards. "You have the face of an angel, Yuugi," he whispered, curiosity dwelling in those alarmingly haunting crimson depths. He was taunting him, practically begging for Yuugi to react, to obey his cloud of sensuality and succumb to whatever this terrifying student wanted from him.

His will was deceptively strong though—he would not be manipulated like this. "Let me go," he growled out stubbornly.

"And why would I do that?"

"_Let me go _or I will scream," Yuugi whispered threateningly. "There's people here. The police aren't far."

"You're not going to scream," Yami (or is that who he really was?) responded in pure confidence. That made Yuugi want to smack him, but for some reason he couldn't; he remained planted against the counter, as if something else was controlling his muscles and forbidding him from moving. "I mean you no harm, Yuugi. I'm simply curious."

_Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. _Yuugi managed to obtain enough strength to yank his face away, bristling from head to toe. He then squeaked as those slender, wiry arms wrapped around him and pulled him from the counter, his face falling onto the other's chest. He grimaced at the contact and tried pulling away—much to his surprise, the grip of the other was far too strong and he couldn't break free.

"What the fuck do you want from me? You know, someone can walk in here and see you doing this and they won't hesitate to call the cops—"

"You really think I'm going to let anyone inside?" the stranger questioned coyly, but then the next action greatly surprised Yuugi. The student's arms released the teenager, and those same arms reached back and grappled the host's neck, slamming him against the closed stalls. He was suddenly at a war with himself, growling at his own actions and sinking his teeth into those hands.

Yuugi paled and blinked at the sudden control of his body. He was about to dash out the door and leave this crazy person on the ground writhing by himself—

"Don't! Yuugi, please!" the man choked, grimacing and growling at his own body, like he was frustrated with it, and then he used one arm to grab the other wrist and pin it to the ground. The trapped fingers wailed towards him, as if trying to attack him again, and he refused to comply. He glanced up at the boy in a quite desperate manner, an entirely new emotion crossing his elegant features. "Don't go! Please, I won't attack you again. I can explain! I promise that it won't happen again—"

Yuugi stared at him, unsure of why his emotions were conflicting in the first place. He stared at the frightening person, watching as he literally had a war with his own body, and to Yuugi's surprise those dark red eyes transformed back into the lavender ones from before, and the features slightly changed—not the face itself, but the pure _aura _had altered completely. They were distant and suspicious one minute, and then savage and lustful the next. The colors changed back and forth like a pinball set loose in a wide terrain.

"Go Yuugi! _Now_!" the boy with the lavender eyes yelled, and it was right before he changed again and those red ones returned.

Yuugi bolted out the door, slamming it behind him and wishing that none of that ever happened. He ran to the table where Anzu sat, confused and bewildered at his disappearance. He stalked up to her and grabbed her wrist, dragging her out of the parlor without a word of explanation. He would just have to explain that he was sick—there was no way he could tell Anzu the details of what happened in that bathroom…

The strange thing was… he somehow regretted leaving him alone in there.

* * *

"Are you _insane_?"

Yami bristled, wiping at the blood dribbling from the broken flesh of his lip. He was standing in a generously sized room, furnished with a simple nightstand, a desk made of rosewood, and a sheet with colorful sheets spread across it. His feet were braced against the ground, anchoring his body from lashing out at the other piece of his subconscious, the piece of him that was so strong and dominant that it nearly scared off the one boy who captured his interest when he walked into Domino High School.

"Well, it seems that _you're _the one that's insane, not me," the spectral form replied in a snide manner. Yami was apparently able to see this form of his subconscious in the real life, but in the form of a ghost, with his tantalizing, seductive smirk and those blazing red eyes. He had lost the senses of compassion and trust years before, and it was just impossible for Yami to converse with this side to him about anything. "After all, you are quite responsible for my existence, are you not?"

"You and I both know that you're not who I originally thought you were," Yami growled out, his fingers curling into his palms. "Atem… you _attacked _him. You _scared _him." His purple eyes darkened in displeasure. "You can't do that. He doesn't even know us."

"But we desire him," Atem retorted, folding his arms across his chest. He tried to glare, but the intensity behind them had significantly lessened since their unnecessary squabble in the bathroom at the ice cream parlor. "I don't see what's so wrong about it." He chuckled and rolled his eyes in predetermined amusement. "For all I know, you're simply jealous that you didn't have the guts to move in on him like I did."

"I'm being patient!" Yami snapped, growling lowly. "You're… you're impossible! You're making this whole situation _impossible_. Yuugi clearly hates us, hates _me_. And you scared him away. He's never going to want to come back and listen to us explain ourselves." He blinked and shook his head. "What am I saying? _I'm _the one who's going to have to explain myself, not you."

"Suit yourself. You can't even talk to him," Atem replied nonchalantly, fiddling with the tips of his fingers and looking exceptionally bored. "You're a coward," he finished, casting an irritated expression towards the other. However, his gaze seemed to soften as he noted how stressed the other looked—Yami was sitting in front of his desk, his arms folded and his eyes growing impassive with exhaustion. "Don't worry about him, Yami. I can make sure that he won't hate us."

The other figment refused to glance in his direction. "I don't know why you keep doing this. It's dangerous to involve ourselves with Yuugi. From what I can tell he really wants nothing to do with us."

"Like that's ever stopped me before." Atem smirked coyly and stood up, casually walking over to his host and leaning down behind him. "Come on… I can help you relax," he purred sultrily. Yami bristled and glared at him over his shoulder, but Atem only persisted. "Damn, always so _serious_."

"Don't play those games with me," Yami growled.

"I'm not playing games. You just happen to be a pawn." Atem smirked in a nearly cruel fashion and stood back up, leaning casually against the chair even though his figure was blended into a ghostly form. "I think this kid could be of a lot of use to us… and not just a wonderful companion to warm our bed."

Yami flushed. "Stop talking like that." He sighed. "We're not going to have anymore to do with Yuugi than we already have."

"Why so sensible in front of me, and yet so predatory around the boy?" Atem demanded, nearly hissing in frustration. "You desire him as much as me, you just don't want to admit it. So stubborn like always." He seemed amused, but Yami could tell from the other that he was simply frustrated and he hadn't want to be mixed up in this mess.

"You need to stop taking control of my body when Yuugi's around."

"Since when do I follow your rules, Sunshine?" Atem quipped, smirking crookedly as Yami stood up and came very close to him in a threatening manner. "Try to punch a spectral form, I dare you, my lovely."

Yami bristled and backed away. "Again, you're impossible."

"And you're amusing. And delectable… imagine, having Yuugi to ourselves. Just help me with this, Yami. We could have him—"

"I won't have any part in this if he's not willing," Yami bit back.

Atem shrugged. "Then I guess I'll have to work harder to convince you." In a flash, he had the other individual pinned beneath him on the floor, his calloused hands gripping Yami's wrists and forcing them above his head. Atem smirked at the closeness between the two of them, though the person beneath him only glared and rolled his eyes. "You always act like you're not feeling anything, but I know better. You want my touch as much as I want you." For a brief, miniscule second, another emotion glossed over his eyes, making them more understanding, more… Yami couldn't read the other one, but it was definitely there.

"Let me up."

"Then kiss me."

Yami growled. "No. Get. Off."

"Sheesh." Atem snorted and stood up, rolling his eyes. "Seriously, you owe me a few passes after making your body punch yourself. That shit fucking hurt."

"You deserved it."

Atem chuckled. "You love me anyway Sunshine."

"Go fuck yourself."

* * *

_**Yeah, so the ending of this chapter I guess got a little lighthearted… but that's just Atem for you. The darker stuff will become more apparent soon, I promise.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	3. Chapter Three

**Title:**_ The Boy in the Black Sweater_

**Rating: **_M_

**Genre: **_Supernatural/Angst/Horror/Mystery/Drama/ Romance_

**Coupling: **_Mobiumshipping_

**Setting: **_Alternate Universe_

**Disclaimer: **_Disclaimed_

**Summary: **_There was just something about the new kid; he walked in silent strides, embracing a cloak of mystery and dismissing the constant attention tossed his way; indeed, the boy in the jet-black pullover was a new figment of interest in Yuugi's life that he longed to pursue and uncover for secrets. The attention needed to be diverted from his own life for a change._

_But there was much more to the boy in the black sweater, much more than Yuugi could have ever imagined, and with otherworldly forces clawing at his every footstep, there is no way he can escape._

_He shouldn't have let himself in._

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! This is the last chapter I'm going to post for this story for a while, since I officially start college tomorrow and I will be extremely busy with both schoolwork and tennis. Collegiate tennis practice is literally every day and it will sap up my schedule like crazy. So… I guess you can say that I'm preparing you guys with this update. Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy the third chapter! As soon as I have time I will update faster! :)**

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**The Boy in the Black Sweater**

**C**h**a**p**t**e**r **T**h**r**e**e

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_**September 15**__**th**__**, 2013**_

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Jounouchi was bored.

Sometimes, walking through Domino High School reminded him of a prepared avalanche: disastrous in the final result, but just as intimidating beforehand. Somehow comparing the frigid doors to mathematics and literature-related classrooms reminded him of chilling icicles and blankets of snow. When he was given the opportunity, he could be a simultaneously malicious and curious person.

Though, he wasn't the person that everyone talked about. Rumors circulated through the hallways in disembodied voices; mindless gossips, shameless bullies and casual nerds with their pants hiked up over their bellies… cliques wandered off and on, but mostly this school was a disastrous ensemble of a bunch of morons.

Arguably he was one of them, but of course he refused to believe that on any account. If anything he was one of the individuals that slunk in the background until his timing was right, and he would burst out of the shadows in comedic light.

He especially liked to torture teachers. Mr. Abernathy—with his Australian, bald glory—happened to be the easiest target.

That odd teacher ranted about absolutely nothing sometimes, and in those opportune moments Jounouchi stole the spotlight with ease, and he was intelligent enough to sneak around the accusations that the teacher hurled since the principal almost always believed him instead. He was never able to escape suspensions and threatens of expulsions with previous principals, but this current one let him slide quite a lot.

Even then, with Mr. Abernathy shuffling through his classroom and stalking around like a hunched-over snail, Jounouchi was _bored_. It was even _more _ridiculous that he was bored since his old targets from the student body were heavily apparent in this classroom. At the corner of his eye he would catch himself about to snap rubber bands in the back of Miho Nosaka's neck, or trip Weevil Underwood before the kid could cry to his hired bodyguards. Usually they were smaller than him, weaker, but he would never pick on the smart kids… at least he learned that much.

But his antics were almost always forgotten in favor of the mysterious death of Ushio Tetsu.

More than a week prior, a huge outbreak in the cafeteria prompted the monstrous bully to chase down a much smaller, dorkier, weaker teenager through the halls. No one served as an eyewitness to the event, so no one could decipher how a scrawny little kid like _Yuugi Mutou _could have _killed _someone… especially someone more than thrice his size. It was ludicrous.

But Jounouchi suspected something else was at work. At times he would call himself paranoid, and his fellow classmates would call him stupid or ignorant, but there was _no way _that Yuugi Mutou killed Ushio Tetsu. And even if he did, what could he have used? From what he learned from sneaking by the teachers, the police were still unsure what caused the unfortunate tormentor's death, and honestly, no one else seemed to care.

The student body livened up with scares, but no one seemed to acknowledge that Ushio was dead. At least, not out of sadness. In fact, some crazy girls and boys that were once victims of the monster tried _thanking _Yuugi, and that was already sick. Jounouchi would catch glimpses of freshmen and sophomores sticking letters into the Mutou kid's locker, and the blonde would notice the horrified expression blanching the odd-looking student's face.

Yeah, of course, Yuugi didn't take those letters very well either. The gratitude to have someone killed or "removed" in any way was just… wrong. Who could even feel a sense of justice killing someone? One thing Jounouchi Katsuya knew for sure was that the kid didn't have the guts to even raise a punch to anyone. Hell, there was on way he even knew how to handle a weapon.

While he wasn't exactly _known _for his observational skills, the blonde managed to catch an interesting detail in the classroom with Mr. Abernathy leading the front desk like a substitute Hitler.

Yuugi Mutou would sit in the same exact spot, diagonal from his own spot in the corner. Cobwebs laced that chair, and inscriptions from previous teenagers who occupied that seat were stretched over the metal legs of the chair and on the plastic back. Some messages between loved ones were scrawled on the surface… yeah; even the poor kid's desk became a victim to profanities and other terrible messages. Seemingly oblivious to the scrawling, the kid always scratched the back of his head, like he was nervous.

And then _the new kid _walked in. The appropriately dubbed "boy in the black sweater". Jounouchi didn't understand what was so special about the kid, except for… well, all right, so he was ghostly pale, had odd purple eyes (but Yuugi already had a pair of eyes like that so he still didn't get it) spiky hair (which Yuugi also had…) and sure, to some he was probably handsome. To Jounouchi, the bored, blonde former bully in the back of the room, he was just ordinary.

Just another ant to the colony.

But damn, it was since _that kid_ came into Mr. Abernathy's classroom that things started acting strange. Ushio Tetsu's death was in no way a coincidence… if there was an eyewitness, or a true killer, whose to say that it wasn't someone who just walked through the school? After all, he saw the fight. Ushio was ganging up on Sweater Boy with hulking fists. If Yuugi hadn't spoken up and stopped him… damn, that kid would be messed up.

Dead. Outright dead. But still messed up.

"Mr. Katsuya!" Mr. Abernathy's stringing voice pounded into the blonde's skull. Grimacing, he lifted up from his daydream and blinked lazy sleep from his eyes. He yawned and scratched his chin, staring with a completely bored expression at the projector and the equations displayed on the wall.

"Yeah?"

"Pay attention!"

Jounouchi groaned. There was no point to him. He lost some precious sleep the night before dealing with his overbearing parents, and that was the least of his problems. Having to come to school every day with the same rumor floating around made his skin itch. And it was a bad, _bad _itch.

He glanced in Yuugi's direction, wondering if the shrimp was doing anything interesting. No surprise, he looked like he was zoning off and doodling in his notebook, and that was odd in itself. When he looked past Yuugi's shoulder, he glimpsed Sweater Boy, looking disinterested in the lecture, but… his eyes were focused somewhere else, and it was then that the blonde noticed he was looking _right at Yuugi_.

Whoa. What the hell was going on _there_?

Jounouchi grinned. He was going to experiment with this, whether they wanted him to or not.

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He decided to wait until after class, when he had the opportunity to use the entire hall as an example. Maybe he could get a reaction out of Sweater Boy… no, he didn't even bother to scope out his name. It wasn't _that _important to him, but when he was bored he needed to quell that unnecessary feeling in his stomach.

He received a few glares from Mr. Abernathy throughout the lecture and landed himself detention, but of course he would deal with it like usual. And when he _dealt _with it, it usually meant he would sneak out last-minute and grab himself a hot dog smothered in chili cheese sauce.

Mm. Chili cheese.

Snapping out of his trance, he smirked and leaned against a locker that he knew for sure was Yuugi Mutou's. He waited until the teenager was locked in his sights, looking quite different than he usually did. While he wasn't exactly an outspoken person, Yuugi never looked like… well, like _that_, like all he wanted to do was to crawl under a rock and hide for a decade.

Hell, that wasn't his problem. He had an experiment to conduct.

The much shorter teen's hands grappled tighter on the straps of his backpack when he approached Jounouchi. His face tightened and his childish eyes widened in confusion as to why the blonde was at his locker at all.

"Mornin'," Jounouchi remarked casually, picking a piece of debris from his jacket and flicking it off without hesitation.

Yuugi stared at him. "… Um, hello." He looked even more uncomfortable than before, and if Jounouchi were any other person he probably would've felt pity for the boy. Instead, he shrugged. "So, um… nice weather, right?"

The blonde blinked. "Eh, kid, you don't have to pretend like you want to be here." The blonde narrowed his eyes and surveyed the other teen with a risen eyebrow. "Not like I have anything better to do than to waste my time…" he paused, smirking suddenly in amusement. "So, kid, are the rumors true?"

Jounouchi could tell that this kid had a stubborn streak as he simply ducked his head, shouldered past him and started dialing the numbers on his lock. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jounouchi."

"Ya know… Ushio."

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"_Ya know… Ushio."_

Yuugi's blood chilled to frost. He fought back a snap, his fingers trembling around the lock. During class he felt Jounouchi Katsuya's scoring attention driven into his back. He knew this was going to happen; for some strange, indefinable reason, he felt that the blonde was going to confront him soon after Mr. Abernathy's math lecture.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yuugi whispered again.

"_Sure_ you don't," Jounouchi taunted, but that mischievous glimmer in his deep copper eyes would have set off anyone else. To Yuugi, they were but a minor annoyance compared to the frigid coldness of Ushio Tetsu's. "Everyone's talking about it. Like you could kill anyone, Mutou, but maybe if it's all true, how did you do it? No one saw you do it; no one knows how he died. It must've been somethin'… out of this world."

Yuugi bristled and glared at him. "I think… I should go." He drifted away from his locker and stalked off in the opposite direction; forgetting about his textbooks, his homework, everything. He hated talking about "the incident", and letting Jounouchi Katsuya of all people get to him about it made him angry all the more. He hoped that clearing his head outside of the classroom would help.

He stopped halfway through the hall at the sight of Yami; the mysterious teenager looked like he always did: leaning casually against one of the walls, his hands submerged in the pockets of his goddamn black pullover. A ghostly expression was cast over his face, and Yuugi hated that the genuine curves of his jaw and the highlight in those deep lavender eyes still made him shiver in anticipation and curiosity, even after the strange encounters they shared.

He half-expected the shallow orbs to change into red at any moment. Bristling, he kept his head low and tried to avoid eye contact with Yami, but it was difficult to do so, as he still felt the other's gaze trail his every movement. It was frustrating to not know what the other was thinking, and by now he wished he could just have the ability to read minds so that he could get the pain over with.

"Why do you always look so scared?"

Yuugi shot straight up and turned to the other in disbelief. Did Yami just…? No, he never talked to him in public. Assaulting him in a public bathroom? Totally normal; but as far as normal conversation on normal grounds, in a normal high school, surrounded by equally _normal _students… that was out of the question. So why was he breaking his façade now?

"You're… seriously asking that?" Yuugi bit back a harsh, venomous laugh. Rolling his eyes, he spun on his heel and continued his way, trying to ignore the steady thump of triumph in his chest.

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_**Well wasn't that marvelous?**_

_You shut up_.

The atmosphere in Domino High School had dramatically changed since Yami first stepped into these particular hallways. Since Ushio Tetsu's death, the windows had been removed and reapplied, sharpened and cleaned to a pristine shine. The cafeteria food was slightly less disgusting, and the people inhabiting the building weren't as intolerable as they were before. However, today, the lunchroom was a jail of silence and awkwardness.

The smell of soiled toast and tomato soup drifted through the room like a heat wave, soaking through Yami's senses and burning his nostrils. His arms were settled in front of him on the smooth steel table, round as an egg, and as always, he was alone.

No one tried to approach him; no one dared to, with the rumors circulating through the building… how he had some strange ability, and how it was such an odd coincidence that as soon as he arrived, things had gone a little awry. The death of Ushio Tetsu was just the beginning of a long tirade of whispers.

_**It's better that way**_. That other voice—the being that he came in contact with on a regular basis—always chided to him, reminding him of better times, of better situations where they had not needed to cope with these conditions.

Sauntering through the school like a clothed phantom did little to their reputation, despite Yami's physical attractiveness and the air of mystery that followed him around every corner. Still, he could not bring himself to approach Yuugi. Not correctly, anyway.

_I think you're wrong. Nothing good has happened since we walked through those doors, Atem. I want Yuugi to be safe as much as you do, but these lengths are extreme… I don't like scaring him._

_**Scaring is part of the fun though, isn't it? Besides, what interesting teenager doesn't like a little thrill every once in a while? And I can assure you that **_**he **_**is a fun-loving type.**_

Yami wished he could believe the other voice slipping through his mind. Maybe they were actually lies and he constructed them himself, channeling them through the being that seemed so similar to himself, but with those intimidating, glowing crimson eyes.

They gleamed like orbs of blood and danger… if Yami hadn't learned to control the other piece of him, Atem would be monstrous. Out of control. Unstoppable.

_**You really think that of me, like I'm some figment of your imagination? Are you really still thinking like that? Like those fools that told you differently all those years ago? **_

A pang of guilt shot through Yami like a cold, icy dagger. He stared ahead, the withering determination in his deep-set gaze making it impossible to tell what he was observing. However, in his mind's eye, he could see the phantom version of Atem; the beautiful image of a man with the equally pale skin and tri-colored hair similar to his own, boasting that overconfident smirk and aggression that he no longer possessed. They were so different, and yet, so incredibly alike.

_I suppose not_, Yami answered truthfully. He traced Atem's expression, waiting for something, a reaction, anything to tell him that what he said was the right thing to mention, but the other shrugged it off and turned his attention to the form of Yuugi Mutou sitting by himself at another table. He turned towards Yami hopefully, his gaze expectant. _No. _

_**He's alone. We can make him more comfortable with us—**_

_After attacking him in a public restroom? Oh, yeah, he'll definitely be receptive to us. You have to understand, Atem, that your plans never work because you're not normal. You're not a real human being… these people think I'm crazy and want to arrest me whenever you take over._

Atem's expression hardened. _**It was a suggestion. And the last thing I want to do is make this harder for you. **_The spectral hand reached across the table, lightly caressing Yami's fingers. He didn't react, but inside his chest was fluttering with an emotion that once lingered there—vibrant and alive—and now, like a rising skeleton it longed to grip life. However, he rejected it and pulled is hand to his lap, turning away from Atem's flabbergasted expression.

_It's hard to trust you. You put me in danger constantly, and then you turn around and say sorry like everything will be better as soon as you apologize. The world doesn't work like that._

_**And you know how the world works? **_The ghost squinted thoughtfully. _**You should always know what I'm thinking. You used to; we used to be so compatible. A lot more than… this. **_For a brief second, the scarlet pools softened, but then they rippled back into frustration faster than someone snapping his fingers. _**Disregarding my ideas for the sake of a boy you and I are both interested in is not an attempt to humiliate you in front of your "human" companions. **_

Yami glared sourly, and once again, he paid attention to his movements to make sure he wasn't acting strange to the rest of the students. To fit in with the image, he scooped some soup into his mouth and forced the putrid taste down his throat. He grimaced, but at least it matched the expression his anger wore right now.

_The last time I listened to you, we scared him away. _

Atem was silent at that, but it wasn't a look of acceptance or admission that made him quiet. He looked like he was conjuring up another plan, another idea that would only drive Yami up the wall with insanity; then again, he was the one that assisted in enacting out the plans in the first place. Upon first sight, Yuugi Mutou entranced them—there wasn't much to it. They hadn't expected everything to blow out of proportion like this.

And now…

_**You know he deserved it**_.

Yami's lips pursed. _I do believe that. But now look what it's doing to Yuugi. The others are talking about him, saying terrible things. Threats are looming over his head, Atem, and I hate listening to it drift by while we can't do anything until their backs are turned. One life was already lost._

Atem's lips cracked into a devastating smile—one that screamed danger, malice and possession. _**Our Yuugi tried protecting us before, Yami. We made sure that he was protected in return for his kindness. Do you not remember that? **_

_Of course I remember that. But… _Yami's expression hardened. _Your intentions are not only to protect Yuugi. Even I know that. _

Atem only smiled. _**And only you will know about that teensy little detail. Because you're just that important to me. **_Despite the sarcasm that laced his voice, Yami sensed the underlying affection that the two somehow had for each other. While it was buried deep within and was hard to trace at times, it was still there, somewhere, lurking and not forgotten. Although, on different occasions Yami would try to forget.

It would be much better if he could push the other's wavering thoughts out of his head. The world would be safer, but he would be more vulnerable. His flaws were important to him, and in the manifestation that was Atem, he found both solace and danger.

_**Go talk to him.**_

_No._

… _**Please? **_

Yami's teeth ground. _How many times do I have to tell you no? Seriously, it's like I'm talking to a child!_

_**Well, if it were like talking to a child, then it would technically be your fault because you're the one responsible for my existence in the first place. Or have you forgotten that, my dear partner?**_

.

.

.

"Hey, Yuugi."

Yuugi lifted his head from his plate, staring indirectly towards Anzu Mazaki as she sat down across from him. She looked very tired, and he swore he could read an apologetic emotion crossing her face, but other than that she just seemed tired. Exhaustion purpled and blued her eyelids and her lips were turned in a very somber smile.

"Hi, Anzu," he replied quickly. "Are you okay?" Immediately after asking he thought of his grandfather—he would have to check in with the doctor who was looking after him soon.

"Yeah, I am." She paused, and suddenly the liquefying tension in her crystal eyes whipped his bones to butter. "But you're not. I can tell." She glanced over towards the other table, and her face hardened at noticing one particular person that she knew was setting Yuugi up in disarray. "Is it because of the new guy?"

Yuugi bristled. "Partially."

"Yuugi… are there people still bothering you? About… Ushio?" She was careful with what she said, but how could he lie to her? Especially when that was such a huge part of it?

He felt Yami watching him. He didn't dare look over, but the intensity was there, and images from several days before in the ice cream parlor restroom flashed in his mind. Remembering how close the other person was, sensing the endless torture and restraint feuding between the two eye colors… it scrambled his brain and ruined each morning. He couldn't even sleep with his grandfather still in a coma, Ms. Kisara Malgren hidden in the shadows writing up articles about his involvement in Ushio's death, and the sweater-wearing stalker that he actually considered giving a _chance _on the first day.

"You never answered my question earlier."

Yuugi turned his attention to the abrupt, lightly tanned hand slapped on the table, followed by the wrinkled blue jacket sleeve and the collared white shirt. The next noticeable detail was the pair of striking cinnamon eyes and unruly blonde hair—just what the hell did Jounouchi Katsuya want now?

Anzu frowned deeply at this. Her posture stiffened and the look in her eyes was purely _murderous_. "Katsuya, leave him alone."

"Why?" he responded casually, smiling matter-of-factly. "You're not the boss of me, Mazaki." He cast a glare towards Yuugi, but there was nothing of malice behind it. He was… how would the teen describe it? Mischievous—a possible idiot with nothing to better to do in his schedule other than ask him meaningless questions to get a reaction.

"I said it before and I'll say it again: I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, sure. So you really think that all of us are supposed to believe that Ushio really just _dropped dead_?"

People started to stare, listening to the abrupt conversation that threatened to deliver a blanket of awkward over the cafeteria.

Yuugi blanched. He didn't need the attention right now—it was the last thing he could possibly want, and with the interested stares suddenly being cast towards his table towards _his _being, he felt unsure and nervous. Goose bumps rippled across his skin and he could barely lift his eyes to meet Anzu's rather distressed expression. She was unsure of what to do and he felt anxiety pump through his blood like a wave of electricity.

"He did," he responded quietly. Anything to drown out the noise.

Jounouchi inched closer, clearly unconvinced. "Oh yeah?"

Anzu stood up. She was going to hit him unless he stopped—Yuugi… Yuugi would cause _another _fight unless he did something to stop it. What if Anzu would be tangled up in his situation because of her need to protect him? That sheltering nature she carried on her shoulders like extra appendages would cause her to leap into danger. It was all for him—selfless friends equaled terrible deaths.

If he hadn't said anything the first time… if he hadn't defended Yami, Ushio would probably still be alive.

And then, his actions, his thoughts, everything, came to an abrupt _stop_.

The table was thrown aside, Anzu tumbling over the chair. The impacting sound of her back against the ground, the bones cracking along with it, sent tremors of fear and rage through Yuugi's body. He braced himself against the rest of the shockwaves, where the other students were knocked off their feet from being so close, so _close_, to the very person that set everything out of order.

Jounouchi Katsuya was dangling in the air, his shoelaces scraping against the tiled floors. He was choking for air, desperate, his eyes searching, wondering, scared out of their wits. His fingers were stretched and cramping, and the pale, near-ghostly hand grasping his flesh and threatening to crush his windpipe matched the severe paleness of the assaulter's features.

It was Yami, looking royally angry and far scarier than Yuugi had ever seen him. His neck ached from falling onto the ground, and his hands twitched with an urge to somehow help Jounouchi despite how he approached him, and then… then he realized that the rest of the student body were scattered about in unconscious lumps. Each one was breathing silently, calmly encased in some spellbound slumber.

To test his theory, he used whatever strength of his consciousness he could muster, and stared into Yami's frigid purple eyes. But no, to his correct expectations, they were not the alluring shade of lavender. They were gleaming, crystallized gems of blood, enraged and geared towards inflicting death wherever they could.

"_How dare you_…" Yami—no, no, Yuugi knew he was not Yami… he was someone else, locked in his head, but he was not Yami. The curve of his lips usually reminded Yuugi that he was the red-eyed persona; that licentious smirk that promised sinful declarations. However, the smirk was not present—instead, those smooth lips were pressed into a tight line, signifying unquenchable outrage. "_I'm sure you're a very daft young man… to lay a hand on someone that I happen to enjoy…_"

Jounouchi could not even breathe. He was too enveloped in shock to respond, and what Yuugi saw next caused his heart to drop to his ankles.

The red-eyed Yami's mouth opened wide—so wide that it appeared that his jaw almost _unhinged_ like that of a hungry python. His pupils had dilated, and the look on his face turned into something murderous, animalistic… out of this world in every sense. Jounouchi's voice was lost in a series of screams that traveled in misty swirls—consumed by the strange monster.

He was… what the fuck?

Yuugi grasped his stomach and vomited onto the ground beneath him, color blurring his vision. Fuck, he had to be seeing things—there, oh god, fuck no, there was no way…

Jounouchi was dying.

He was _dying_. He was being murdered in frigid, hellish blood.

"Stop…" Yuugi breathed, bile rising in the back of his throat. He could barely look at the horrible sight, of Jounouchi's body twitching in paralysis and the strange, wispy swirls of color being sapped from his body… "Stop, please, _stop_…"

.

.

.

_STOP! Atem, stop! Stop now! You can't do this! Listen to me! Listen to what I have to say—you're killing him! You're doing it again!_

_**He deserves it! Shut up Yami before I take it out on you!**_

_This isn't what you're meant to do! Yuugi is crying! Look at him! He's begging you to stop! STOP IT NOW ATEM!_

Yami hesitated within the barriers of his own mind, glancing through the mirrors of Atem's current eyeballs. The other was desperately killing the blonde that threatened their Yuugi, but this was going too far. He was losing Atem, and as of this moment he had no choice.

_**Make me!**_

Yami growled, and mustered his strength.

He would have to.


End file.
